Sweet Nothings: Fire
by applecherry
Summary: It's not friction nor chemistry. They really just burn together, naturally. 07-Marker: Even the littlest things leave marks.
1. Melting, Reasons, Mornings, Laughter

**For those who haven't read my announcement at the 17****th**** vignette in the original **_Sweet Nothings_**, I'll brief you up. I removed all RP and HT vignettes in **_Sweet Nothings_**. It will now be filled with only YA one-shots. I will repost the old YA chapters and continue in the future. For this new one, **_Sweet Nothings: Fire_**, I will repost the old RP vignettes from original, plus a new one, then continue from there. Unfortunately for the HT vignettes, they'll stay stored in my hard drive for the meantime. FYI.**

For my new readers, well, enjoy the goodness of RenPiri! :)

**01: **_**Melting**_  
Ice and snow melt quicker than they are formed.

"You're spending Christmas here?"

She didn't have to turn her head to know who it is.

"Yes, in a sense."

He joined her. "You could see the beauty of falling snow from up here," she stated conversationally.

"Yeah." He then snickers. "It's a wonder you didn't slip. It's quite high up here." She knew him well enough to know that was him worrying.

She beamed him a smile, vanishing all unsaid worries. So, he shrugs. She also knew very well what that shrug meant.

Without warning, she closed the gap between them and leaned on him. Surprised, yes, but nonetheless wrapped an arm around her figure and shared body heat. They stayed like that for moments, contented, admiring the grace of falling snow.

"Did you know? Cooling requires more energy than heating." Her eyes, still on the white stuff.

He scoffed. "So you're a physics master now?"

The remark introduced her elbow to his ribs. "Can't you have civil conversation even once in a while?"

He desperately disguised his laugh with scowl. "Then stop it with the stupid trivia. Doesn't mean that you are an ice shaman, you'll always be the expert about them."

He knew she was pouting, even without looking. He angled his head closer to her and whispered, "I, for one, know ice on a personal level."

His statement could have meant many things, and she would have thought it a rude remark if not for the somber tone when he said the words. She knitted her brows together.

He figured it was not the proper time for this thing, so with a thumb, he smoothed her frown. "Never mind, forget it."

She looked into his eyes, deep; like a silent conversation, then surrendered, her head tilting on one side. "If you say so." She snuggled closer, smiling at his thoughts.

He then relinquished all conflicting emotions and surrendered to the feeling she emanates within him. He let a small smile adorn his features.

_You didn't thaw me, you melted me completely._

**02: **_**Reasons**_  
Truth changes a lot of things.

"I hate you!"

The past half an hour has been quite troublesome. Of course, they never had a fight without screaming and destruction of things, along with the most colorful words you've ever imagined, for both sides.

However, this is rather different.

"Did you think I'm just a frickin' damn whore that wouldn't care less if you die at any moment?" Tears were gushing out freely from her bloodshot eyes. Her breathing was ragged and she was close to hyperventilating.

"Pirika, stop it."

It was more of a plea than of an order. Surprisingly, he had been quiet throughout the fight. He just stood there, fists clenched, and barely had any effort to dodge the things that were thrown at him.

"Six weeks! No calls, no messages, no notices, no nothing! No one even told me where you were. Only after a week did I know that you had a sudden flight back to China. You expect me to eat properly, sleep peacefully, and live on well after knowing that? Hell! Every second I waste here could have been the last seconds of your life there! I have every right to know what's happening with your clan. Newsflash! It's mine too since you placed this ring on my finger three months ago!"

He started walking to her as she backed to the wall. "I didn't want you to get involved." He held her chin as she tried to break away from his hold.

"But I-" He caged her in his arms and the wall and leaned his forehead to hers. Her hot tears and shallow breaths, breaking him to pieces. "The moment you said yes to me, you should've known how selfish I am. I don't want you to have these bruises, to feel this pain. These should be mine only. I'll give you anything, share everything. Everything but this," he guided her hands to the fresh bruises on his body. She just felt everything leave her and sobbed. Kissing the tip of her ears, he murmured, "Besides, I'll just miss you more if I'd be hearing your voice and anything that you'd be saying if I maintained contact here."

She dropped to her knees and settled in his arms. She managed to smirk bitterly through her tears before closing her eyes as she let all energy drain her.

"_Selfish brat."_

**03: **_**Mornings**_  
Waking up isn't always turning anew.

Blink. Blink.

A pair of blue orbs carefully opened their way to a new day. The sun was still rising, she noted. Without moving a muscle, she surveyed her surroundings. Three more of her chamomile buds at the windowsill has bloomed. The little bird's eggs at the tree by the window have hatched, causing cute little chirping noises at the crack of dawn.

She sighed. New day, new changes, new problems, new occasions, new—occasions?

Today is her brother's wedding day!

Hurriedly, she stood up—er, wait, one more time.

She stood up—argh, fine.

She _tried_ to stand up when she noticed the pair of strong arms preventing her action; one around her shoulders, the other around her waist. Not to mention their tangled legs underneath the blankets, making standing up impossible.

She twisted around, turning to face the arms' owner. She let her gaze linger for a moment, absorbing the sight of how angelic his husband's face seems while asleep, as the early rays of the morning sun adorned them. Having enough of that scene for the morning, she gave him a full, though swift kiss and proceeded to stand up.

Er, _try_ to stand up. Again.

"Hey! You got your morning kiss already. Let me up!"

Pirika got a sleepy grunt as a response.

"Horo-nii's wedding is today! We have to get up."

"Hm."

She made another attempt in standing but to no avail. "If we're late, he'll never let me hear the end of it!"

"Hm."

She gave up her attempts but continued the obviously one-sided verbal battle. "And you! You're their Best Man! If you show up late, I'm pretty sure my brother would do all things unimaginable."

"Hm." He's still half-asleep, you know.

Pirika stopped. She looked gingerly at her seemingly angelic-while-asleep husband and savored his warmth.

"Ren, if we're late, I'm giving you all the blame." She then surrendered, snuggled deeper in his arms and closed her eyes. He smiled.

_Forever like this isn't such a bad thing._

**04: **_**Laughter**_  
What's worse than being ganged up?

"Did too." His spike was pulsing.

"Did not." His wife pleasantly sipped her tea.

"Did too!" This was definitely becoming a good scene. NOT.

"Did not!" Oh look, now her daughter chimed in. The twins are even laughing! Laughing. At him. The oh-so-mighty patriarch.

"Daddy, face it. You did not grow any taller than the past six months." Rei was supposed to be on his side! She's Daddy's girl, right?

"If I didn't grow any taller, then Aki wouldn't grow any taller too. You wouldn't grow taller than I am," he bitterly pointed out.

"Daddy, Rei-nee-chan is just turning 17. Aki-nii-san is just 15. I just turned 13. We're in the growing years. We have plenty of years to grow." Kari explained pathetically smug, biting in a laugh.

With a piercing eye, he surveyed the breakfast table. Her wife was just grinning, sipping tea, his traitorous daughter kept nodding her head while laughing and his silent son just swallowed, finishing his meal. Oh no, it's not yet over.

"I also beg to differ, Daddy. I'm actually the tallest in class and the nurse recording my health statistics in the clinic says I can grow five inches or more by the time I'm finish with school." He gave his father a shrug that says 'I'm sorry'.

Now, everybody's laughing. He was sulking in his chair when two sloppy kisses came in contact with his cheeks. His eight year-old twins had climbed to her lap and kissed him while giggling.

"Don't worry, Daddy," his son said, clinging to his neck, blue spikes sticking everywhere.

"We still love you!" his daughter finished her twin's sentence. Her purple locks bunched up to her Daddy's face, embrace getting tighter.

Ren laughed with his family. Rei stood up after a little while and whispered to her Daddy's ear, "Chill it, Daddy. Mommy's not growing any taller too."

"Hey! I heard that!" Pirika tried to fake a frown, but desperately failing.

Kari was choking with laughter but managed to say, "Don't worry, Mommy," and her Aki-nii-san finished it for her. "We still love you, too!"

And it was laughter that echoed all throughout the Tao estate that morning.

_Laughter at your expense is priceless if your loved ones are the ones having it._

**FIN**  
Review if you would. Constructive criticisms appreciated. Reasonable flames accepted.

**Written and first posted**: 2006-2010  
**Reposted**: 051812 . 1130h

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_**Sweet Nothings: Fire © applecherry™ May 2012**_


	2. Mother

**05: **_**Mother**_  
They, who never run out of love.

"We're in the same situation, you know."

The hell we were. That blond dimwit. What does he know?

The young heir marched up the Tao establishment to the private wing. He looked around, searching for a possible reliable source of intel. There were only two persons he trust to clarify and remedy his query; his aunt didn't count because she tend to treat him like an innocent little nine-year-old kid, which he vehemently insist he is not (the 'innocent' and 'little' part, that is).

Sliding open the door to the study room revealed his father comfortably seated in the recliner, his back to him. Small feet padded forward. "Daddy?" He only gets to call his father that in private, of course. This tiny show of unrestrained affection is one he secretly takes great pleasure in.

There was no immediate reply, so he walked further to face him. Eyes closes with steady, even breaths, his father looked so peaceful. Happy, even.

Debating whether to leave in tranquility or rouse his father in an unusual manner, the latter won. The boy hopped up the seat, straddled his father, and threw his arms around his neck tightly. Very childish, yes, but unusual nonetheless for a boy mostly deprived of childhood while growing up under the claws of the clan.

"Very unbecoming of a Tao prince, don't you think?"

Cheek still pressed against his father's broad chest, he snorted. "Psh. Hell I care."

"Language, Men." His father flicked his forehead.

The reprimanded boy lifted his head and showcased a smug grin before saying, "Mommy called."

"And?"

He shrugged. "The usual. She insists we visit her this Christmas rather she coming over here."

The older Tao straightened up in his seat and rearranged his son to sit properly on his lap. "Makes sense. You were supposed to fly to Europe at the beginning of summer, yet you're here."

"But it's _boring_ there! Nobody presents any challenge and I resent to be surrounded by _more_ idiots." It was downright childish whining.

His father graced a smirk and patted his white head, once, twice, spike pulsing. "Whine to your mother."

The same smirk was pasted in the younger's face. "Which mother?" His boy was getting too smart for his own good, the father thought.

Said boy shifted on his lap.

"You care for Mommy, right?"

Ren raised a brow, but answered nonetheless. "Of course."

"Do you love Mama, even back then before you had me with Mommy?"

"Yes." He would've flinched under his son's piercing eyes.

The young one paused, as if in deep contemplation. At that moment, little shuffling sounded just outside the room, and a lady with long, flowing light-blue locks peeked her head in. "Mama!" The boy jumped off his father's lap and hurriedly ran towards the lady he called Mama. He was received warmly with a hug and a kiss on the head.

"Shouting and running barefoot now? My, you're getting worse every day." His mama shuffled his hair playfully.

"You should've seen him _snuggle_ earlier." He glared at the traitor who had sneaked behind him. His mama let out a beautiful laugh as his father gave her a peck on the lips. The lady bent down to level with the glaring boy. "Want to snuggle with me?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "Promise I won't tell." She made the motion of zipping her lips.

Oh, how he adored his mama. Don't get him wrong, he loves his mothers very much. His mommy always takes his side in his banters with his daddy, and his mama always makes fun and great payback methods against his daddy. But with his mama, he feels so free, and he experiences the joy of, not being a child of Tao, but being a child of two—three—parents who love him dearly.

He smiled at his mama. A true, lovely smile. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Later, Mama, promise." The smile turned evil and he stage-whispered, "Later, Mama, but keep it a secret from Daddy. I want you all to myself!"

"Hey!"

And he ran off.

Pirika stood, a hand on her waist. "You tease him too much, he's learning to retaliate much better than he should." The accused said nothing and pulled her to him instead, hand brushing blue strands aside, and pressed a lingering kiss on her nape. "You bring out the naughty monster in him." She swatted the arm that managed to snake around her waist. "It was already out; not surprising since he got it from you. I'm just taming it." Twisting in his hold, she hooked both her arms to his neck and lay her head in the space between. He drowned himself in her scent and held her closer. "Just like you did me."

The young man who ran off was too far away to have witnessed that little scene, and his mind too focused on one thing to process other less significant issues.

"That blond dimwit." Oh, he was so telling him off! He had called the Asakura heir for that single matter.

They may both have two mothers, mothers who can be real scary and can kick some fine ass, mothers who love them very, very much, but in no way can he accept are they in the same situation. He refuses to acknowledge any kind of similarity with the older blond.

The moment he heard Hana's voice on the other side of the line, he yelled. "We are NOT in the same situation! Argue once more and I'll kill you." And he slammed the phone.

Smug, he crossed his arms on his chest. "I am the son of a king and a goddess, and I got a mother who makes great evil plans, even the Shaman King is in awe." His rival can't even put up a decent fight in this one, when he's only got a bum, a hippie, and an enka singer as parents.

'Ha! Take that you blond dimwit.' No, he wasn't being illogical, or immature, or anything else indicating any sign of childishness. No, he shook his head. He was just being a smart-ass monster.

And he took off again, with every intention to steal his Mama away from his Daddy.

_Who needs a traditional mother and father when you can have more? It's not a matter of name or title; it's a matter of heart._

**FIN**  
Review if you would. Constructive criticisms appreciated. Reasonable flames accepted.

**Written and first posted**: 2011  
**Reposted**: 051812 . 1604h

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_**Sweet Nothings: Fire © applecherry™ May 2012**_


	3. Threshold

**06: **_**Threshold**_  
There's always an invisible line that is unbearable to cross.

His eyes tightly shuts. His lips, a hard, thin line.

Her hand recedes, making its way back to either sides of his head.

"Shh," she whispers against his lips then brushes them softly, like a caress.

He opens his eyes and searches for hers with a frantic need to know her reaction. When he was met with wide, crystal blue, he breathes out in relief. He grabs a hand on his cheek, presses them against his lips, before he dips his head to capture her mouth in a deep, determined kiss. "Again."

Her hands make its way down again, his firm jaw, the tracks on his neck, the slope of his shoulders, while her lips follow its path. Slowly, gently, light as a feather, she inches toward his torso, to the angry, marring lines, disturbing the previously smooth travel from above. His breath hitches and holds.

The pale marks differ; thick and thin, short and long, some jagged, some very deep, but all the same, a trauma that left a mark on his soul. Every line she traces, he relieves, watching from behind the lids of his eyes. The pain is not physical, more so harder to relieve. He doesn't want them, no, but his life wouldn't be the same without them either. Her fingers, her lips, scorches every scar, making the memory more vivid, and he is scared that he will fully be charred, nothing to be left of him.

The intensity increases when her deft digits crawl to his marked back. He arches, and when she spread her palm, he whimpers. So close to surrender. "It hurts." His voice cracks.

The palm on his back presses, a searing mark over a haunted one. The other traveled back to his torso and rested over his frantically beating heart, over the lines that causes him so much pain. "Shh," she whispers comfort again, "you're safe."

Her simple words become his salvation. And when her clear blue eyes, brimming with unshed tears, come into focus, he gives in. No, she refuses to cry, not for him nor for herself, because this is what they need, both of them. "It hurts that I hurt even at your touch," he wipes away her invisible tears. "Even when you want it, even when I need it." He falters. "How come you're still here even when I can't give you what you want?"

She shifts, straddling him. Both her palms now pressed on his chest, the one over his heart moving in a circle, providing solace for the distress. He is still in agony at the touch, lips in a straight line, but his agony for her conquers. She bends down, her long, unbound locks cages them, letting them have their own world.

"You give me what I need and more. You let me do this, regardless of everything. I want to keep you safe, to be your panacea, and you let me." She smoothes her palms up to his jaw, her thumb stroking his underlip, as she bows down further to touch his nose with hers. She captures his wild eyes, "You gave me you, how can I possibly leave?"

_Knowing that pain can be attributed to other things and not just the person makes a lot of difference._

**FIN**  
Review if you would. Constructive criticisms appreciated. Reasonable flames accepted.

**Posted**: 051812 . 1606h

Ren with trauma? Just heartbreaking.

_**Sweet Nothings: Fire © applecherry™ May 2012**_


	4. Marker

**07: **_**Marker**_  
Even the littlest things leave marks.

It was a typical Sunday afternoon in the Tao household. The peace and quiet that was rarely present during their younger years was more frequent in this epoch. The patriarch was reading in a corner, the matriarch was carving wood, and the little boy was studiously doing his homework.

A perfect picture of a peaceful, ideal family.

Later, the patriarch dozes off and the matriarch is by the little boy, supervising his study. And the perfect picture breaks.

"Mama, can I write on Daddy's face with a marker?"

Pirika gasps, "Certainly not," then pauses.

The Tao heir, with all the regality and seriousness, caught this as a hint and thought further.

"Can **we** write in Daddy's face with a marker?"

She raises a brow and he thinks again.

"Can **we** write in Daddy's face with a **washable** marker?"

She smiles. "That's better." He starts to stand but his mother halts him with a glare. "After your studies." The boy pouts but complied, reminding himself of his mother's wrath.

It seems that this little boy defies everything the world knows him by when he is at home with only his father and either mother around. And without doubt, he would take the wrath of his father any day than that of his mothers.

So the little boy finished up and scurries along, retrieving his weapon of choice for his current mischief, then climbs up his father's lap. His Mama sits on one arm of the chair. He uncaps the washable marker and raises it inches against the face of the oblivious royalty. "What are you thinking?" His mother asks, not out of disbelief, but of curiosity. "Moustache and beard?" The little boy stares intently at the pristine face of the still-sleeping emperor. His mother leaned back. "I though you had better creativity than that." He attempts a glare at his Mama, his ego wounded.

"He's very much like a sleeping lion, isn't he?" The moment the word 'lion' left her lips, they were already grinning at each other. And so the felt tip finally touched skin.

The partners-in-crime worked deliberately with full concentration to keep their laughter at a minimum. You do not want to wake a sleeping lion. Ever.

A few moments later they stood back to study their work of art. Satisfied, he caps the marker.

"I must say, your art skills are improving, Men," his Mama comments. He puffs his chest and grins, bows and replies a thank you.

They laugh.

And the sleeping lion starts to stir. "Men, I think this is the part where you get away and escape."

"But I wanna see his reaction!" The little boy was determined to see the fruits of their work.

"Do you want to get eaten?" At this, the boy's eyes widen and he dashes off. This leaves the matriarch to her own devices.

With a graceful stride, she closed the distance and straddled the emperor, sitting seiza-style on his lap. "Wow, great acting, Ren. No pulsing spike (all three pulsed at this point), no twitching (his brows and lips twitched, a vein popped)." She shrugs, "well, until now anyways." She shifts her legs to the sides of his lap as she presses herself down a little, an elbow propped against his chest, her chin resting against her raised palm in thought. "Still, I think you should consider a change in profession." She inched closer, tracing the marks she and her boy left earlier.

Just like a solemn rabbit having an up-close, casual conversation with an enraged lion.

He exhales a large, shaky breath. "Happy?"

"Very." And the rabbit takes the lion's mouth.

He purrs.

_They'd do anything to make their boy's childhood be branded with nothing like theirs._

**FIN**  
Review if you would. Constructive criticisms appreciated. Reasonable flames accepted.

**Posted**: 082912 . 2029h

Thank you for all the reviews, follows and faves!

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_**Sweet Nothings: Fire © applecherry™ May 2012**_


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